The most precious thing
by Seasidegirl
Summary: A re-write of my old story. When Mac turns ill, Bloo and his friends start to realise the fragility of health... but the strength of friendship.
1. Chapter 1

Hey all!

Well, by writing this Story, I think I've given my old identity away. Yep, I am BuntyBadger, old time user of this site. Recently I have been reading though my old posts, and found one story that I would like to re-write. It's "Friends Forever"... but I like to think I've tried to improve a lot of it. Since writing the original story I've found myself in the caring profession and working closely with the medical side of things, such as nurses, medications, hospital environments, making my knowledge and researching more effective in general.

I hope you enjoy the new and improved story!

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><p>Tick... Tick... Tick...<p>

Bloo watched the door intently, his eyes almost burning holes into the antique cherry timber before him. A tin of paint he held on his left arm weighed him to one side, and the hammer he held in his right was held up in almost frightening enthusiasm. Today was the day. The Day they would complete the MOST awesome, MOST amazing, MOST spectacular project EVER. The Herriman Piñata. He had absolutely no idea how to make a piñata of course, but he was sure a pot of paint could be thrown in there somewhere, and the hammer for good measure.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

Why does that darn clock have to tick so much? Why not "tock" for a change? Man, that clock was starting to irritate him something chronic. Just one hit. Herriman need never know. Bloo dropped the paint pot on the floor where it rolled in abandon and climbed the nearest furniture to reach the offending regulator, hung on the wall high above the reaches of most imaginary friends.

But Bloo was not "most imaginary friends". He soon reached the timekeeper, chuckling madly through gritted teeth. He pulled the hammer back behind his shoulder and just as he was about to commit murder on it, the door burst open, causing light and life to flood into Foster's foyer.

"OH MY GOSH BLOO!" A girl's voice shrilled throughout the home, causing Bloo to drop his hammer in surprise. He squinted at the familiar form in the doorway, dark against the sun that shone so brilliantly behind her. She pointed herself towards the blob and took a running leap at him, rugby tackling him to the floor and rolled to the centre of the room. The two grunted in their endeavours of play fighting, and didn't notice the second figure to slip into the room.

His thick brown eyes smiled at the two tussling friends on the floor, and felt a surge of delight uplift him. He had been promised a brilliant day by Bloo the day before and had been lucky enough to bump into Goo on the way to the home. And when the three of them were together, anything could happen.

And he meant anything. He still had the scars.

"MAC!" Goo yelled mid-nelson to the boy before her. "THINK FAST!"

And at that, the two friends flew at Mac with the force of two mini tsunamis, each individual enough to knock a grown man off his feet. Unsurprisingly they fell together in an ungraceful heap halfway across the room, a tangle of limbs, hair and excitement.

"Bloo says he has a REALLLLLY REALLLLLY cool thing to do today and I thought that's so cool because Bloo always has the best ever ever ever ideas and..." GAAAAASP "Frankie's gonna give us the materials and EVERYTHIIIING!" She squished her face in her palms in unbridled joy.

"She's giving... us... materials to make a Herriman piñata?" Mac gasped and coughed under the figures pinning him to the floor. The coughs juddered through the tangled trio violently, and Goo and Bloo looked at each other in concern.

"Oh man Mac, you STILL have that cough? How long's it been f'r Pete's Sake?" Bloo groaned as the two rolled off him, giving Mac some air.

"About... *coff* about a *hack!* week now, I think *caff caff caff*" Mac hacked into his palms and once he was finished, held his head in his hands. A few seconds later he pulled away, and looked up his friends before him with a bright smile.

"Ohhh man, you do! You have a temperature and eeeeeverything!" Goo shot out her hand to the boy's forehead, which was quickly swatted away in frustration. "You should eat some chicken soup 'cos last year I had the flu, and flu reaaaaally sucks you can't breathe and you get sick and get a temperature JUST LIKE YOURS! So mom made me some of this chicken soup and I was like 'GROSS IT'S YELLOW' and mom said sorry but she can't cook all that good but I ate it anyway and it was lumpy and I got better a few days later," GAAAAAAAASP.

Mac shot Goo a withered look. She was sweet and all but sometimes she worried a bit too much. The phlegm in his mouth made him gag a little so with a little shudder, Mac swallowed it with a loud GULP. Bloo shot his hands over his mouth and made a face of disgust.

"OH MAN MAC! That is SICK!" Bloo shrieked in horror. "Why didn't you spit it out? That's disgusting!" His tongue lolled about his chin, his eyes squinting in revulsion.

"Because I don't wanna spit it! We're in the front room; I don't wanna put it all over the floor,"

"Thank you, Mac," A voice above them sounded. The three turned their faces upward to the woman who towered above them, her hands by her sides holding plastic bags full of what looked like crepe paper, scissors and glue.

"I have to clean up gob all the time as it is," She eyed Bloo with green-eyed suspicion. "So don't think of doing it anytime soon, mister," The blob crossed his arms and looked away.

"Dun thin of doin it anytime blahblahblah blah blah!" He mimicked, but withered when the woman snapped to face him and narrowed her eyes.

"SO! Who's up for piñatas!" She smiled and held up the plastic bags. "I thought we could make an activity for the other friends too. It'll be fun!"

Goo shot to her feet. "Other friends?" She grinned toothily at the redhead before her, who nodded and gave Goo the plastic bags. Her eyes widened in excitement and raced to the dining room, followed closely by Bloo shouting "WAIT FOR ME! WAIT FOR ME!"

"NOT IN THE DINING ROOM GUYS! IN THE ACTIVITY ROOM! ACTIVITY ROOM!" Frankie hollered after them, and the two left behind heard a screech and a change of direction as the footsteps thundered down the corridor.

"Hey Mac, why aren't you with them?" Frankie looked down the eight year old who was still seated on the floor.

"I don't feel very well Frankie. I kinda got a nasty headache, had it since this morning," Mac smiled wearily. Frankie, her instincts sounding loudly in her head, knelt down next to him and, brushing the mop of chestnut bangs away from his neck, felt under his jaw. Beneath her fingertips she felt a lump about the size of a hazelnut, and one on the other side. Her green eyes darted as Mac winced and wrenched his face away, pushing her hands aside.

"Ohhh Mac. Your glands are really swollen. Haven't you been taken to the doctor yet?"

Mac looked away and played with his fingers. "Mom just says I've got the flu. To be honest I really should be at home but I was so bored watching TV I snuck out and came here,"

"Didn't she stop you?" Frankie looked concerned at this news.

"She doesn't know. She's still at work 'till six tonight and Terrence left me to see his friends,"

Frankie sighed knowingly and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Little guy, I really think you should go home. You've had this for about a week now, you might be pushing yourself too hard. Go home; I'll take you there now. Get some bedrest and I'll talk to Terrence about getting your mom to take you to the doctor," Frankie smiled warmly as Mac started to protest. "Relax kiddo, Terrence listens to me these days. He just needed to be put in his place,"

The child pushed himself up onto his feet and pulled his backpack onto his shoulders. "But what about Bloo and Goo? I don't wanna let them down. They're really looking forward to me being here,"

Frankie put her hand on his shoulder and turned to walk towards the door with him. She looked over her shoulder and, with an impressive yell, called out to the inhabitants of the home.

"HEY GUYS? I'M GONNA BE 10 MINUTES, JUST GONNA TAKE MAC HOME OK? BEHAVE YOURSELVES!" Her voice reverberated throughout the corridors, and from around the corner two faces, covered in glue and sparkles and crepe paper and bizarrely, alien boppers on their heads, peered to watch Mac go out the front door with Frankie.

"Hey Mac, where ya' goin'?" Goo questioned. "We got way so much t'do!"

"Mac's not feeling very well and needs some rest. He'll be over again soon, won'tcha kiddo?" Frankie smiled back at the imaginary friend and the girl watching the two with intense curiosity.

"I'll be back tomorrow guys! Have fun, ok?" At this he turned to hack as he walked out, the door shutting behind them with a click.

"D'ya think he's ok, Bloo?" Goo sighed, fiddling with a bopper that sprang backwards and forwards.

"He's fine, Goo. Just got a cough... and he said he'd be back tomorrow!" Bloo took her hand and led her back to the activity room, which was filled with the busy forms of various imaginary friends seated around tables in different stages of crafting. He held above his head a PVA stick, and with a primal yell that echoed around the other friends, he declared a message.

"LET THE GLUE-ENING... BEGIN!"


	2. Chapter 2

Second Chapter! I hope you enjoy it! Reviews very welcome and constructive criticism welcome.

I do not own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends.

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><p>Mac and Frankie turned out of the grounds and to the Foster's Bus, parked out front. It stood starkly and vividly against the concrete grey of the city, its psychedelic paintjob hand worked by the resident's of the home several years ago, but just as vibrant as if it were done yesterday. She placed her hand gently on Mac's back as she opened the sliding doors, and assisted him into one of the chairs.<p>

"Thanks Frankie, but honestly you don't have to do this!" Mac insisted, looking at her with a knowledgeable frown. Frankie giggled at the little adult before her.

"Mac, you know me. I just wanna make sure you're ok," She smiled, making her way down to the driver's seat. Placing her key in the ignition and putting the bus in gear, the vehicle started to chug away as she pulled out into the road.

After a few minutes of driving along in relative silence, the bus soon found itself in a queue of traffic, backed up from a set of red stop signs. Frankie squinted her eyes at the situation and sighed in frustration. Still holding onto the wheel, she inclined her head to check on her passenger.

"Hey, buddy, you ok?"

"Mumble...stop...mumble..."

"What was that?" Frankie leaned back and peered further over her shoulder, seeing Mac looking slightly worse for wear. "Hey... what's up?"

"Mummmmble... Stop... bus... Gonna..." Mac slurred. His arms were crossed over his stomach, his face hidden from view behind his thick sienna hair. He felt a bead of sweat beginning to trickle down his forehead.

"Gonna what? Mac?" Frankie looked up, and noticed the traffic was beginning to move. She put the bus into gear and started to pull away.

"GONNA BE SICK!" Mac gasped. "LIKE NOW!"

This snapped Frankie into action. Acting entirely on instinct, she grabbed the wheel and screamed over onto side of the pavement, cutting up a lane in the process. Cars screeched behind her, and the drivers were hanging out of their windows, waving their fists and yelling obscenities as they passed by, asking for insurance details and telling her to get "stuffed".

But Frankie wasted no time on them. She leapt up, and in one swift motion she grabbed a paper sick bowl from the cabinet containing basic medical supplies and flew to the child behind her. And not a moment too soon. The second the bowl was under his chin, Mac let rip, emptying his stomach to what he felt like three years worth of meals.

Frankie rubbed his back and held his hair to one side. She had dealt with travel sickness a lot over the years, and silently thanked the inspectors who had insisted on a supply cabinet in the bus. Feeling like he was nearly finished, Mac breathed deeply and sat up again, his vision swimming in front of him.

"Feeling better now?" Frankie smiled gently at her charge. His face was red with effort, and traces of vomit snaked down his nose and chin. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a tissue and proceeded to wipe away the mess. Mac didn't fight it; he felt far too weak. It was easier to let the woman fuss over him than argue. And anyway, he felt so embarrassed at this he didn't even feel like moving. But Frankie had other plans.

"Come on kiddo," She helped him to his feet. "Let's get you some air,"

Still holding the bowl and his face contorted into a mixture of shame and nausea, he felt himself being guided off the bus and helped onto the grassy verge. The air around him slapped his cheeks and instantly he felt himself cooling down, and felt a wave of relief.

"There... that's better isn't it? Let's sit down and calm for a few moments," She sat down onto the verge, the grass pricking her though her skirt and onto her legs. Taking the bowl from him, Mac sat tentatively next to her, averting his eyes from her concerned and kind face.

A few moments of quietness passed, broken only by the occasional hiccough and retch, of which Frankie would put the bowl under his chin, only for him to spit out the few remaining parts of his bout of sickness. After about two minutes, Frankie spoke.

"You know," She sighed. "I've never seen you travel sick before," She looked into his face. In the cold light of the day and after the drama had unfolded, she noticed that the child was not right. His face, normally plump with the vitality of youth was slightly sunken in, and his eyes looked tired and shadowed. Her eyes travelled down to his arms and hands. She frowned as she noticed the corner of a yellow-green shape just poking from under his sleeve.

"Let me see that bruise, Mac," She took his hand, rolled up the long sleeve and her eyes widened in surprise. The blemish was larger than she thought, snaking angrily up to his elbow and coloured a sickly looking yellow, spattered with brown marks. Frankie Foster was shocked. No, she was horrified.

"Where in the world did you get THAT?" She gasped, still staring at it. Mac wrenched it away and covered it up, his face hidden by his bangs. He bit his lip.

"Nothing, it's nothing. I-I... I fell off my bike the other day. It's stayed like that since,"

"Mac, do I look dumb to you? I know kids get bruises but come on. You say this happened by falling off your bike?"

"Yeah Frankie! Jeeze, what's the big deal? I've had bruises before and you never freaked out like this!" Mac snapped at her, looking up in anger and frustration.

"Did _Terrence_ do it?"

"NO!"

Frankie sighed and pinched the area between her eyes. When she turned to look back at him, her face was serious.

"Mac, I've worked for a long, long time as a carer for imaginary friends. I know when something's not right, whether it be their creators mistreating them, to when they're sick. Now, I've noticed something with you today Mac... scratch that, this week I've noticed something wrong with you," Frankie took his shoulders in her hands.

"Mac, you've been coughing all week. It hasn't got any better, it's got worse. At first I thought you were pushing yourself too hard. Now today you complain of a headache, and you throw up all over the bus. And now there's this bruise." She pointed to his arm, and Mac's hand shot over it in defence. "Mac, we need to get you to a doctor,"

"When?" Mac looked up at the woman next to him in trepidation.

"NOW," She got to her feet and pulled him up next to her. "We're going right now,"


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello guys! Here's the third installment. I'd really love some feedback on this, critique welcome! Enjoy.  
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**I do not own any characters in this story. I just gave Mac's mother a name because... well... she's Mac's mother!**

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><p>It was getting dark by the time the Foster's bus pulled up outside the block of apartments, its bright psychedelic colours radiating starkly against the grey of the buildings behind it. The doors swung open as Mac stepped out, his hands buried firmly in his pockets, followed by Frankie. She kept a hand on his back as she ushered him around the back and up the stairs, with him complaining and fighting as they climbed each wrought iron wrung. They stepped across the landing and stopped.<p>

"Is this yours, kiddo?" Frankie looked up. She noticed that the door was looking a little tired, the paint flaking at the corners and edges.

"Yeah," Mac mumbled as he fished for his key, and put it in the lock. "You can go now,"

Frankie blinked at him.

"Like... now? Now is good. You can go NOW, Frankie,"

Frankie's laugh tinkled up and down the landing, and echoed into the front door as she followed him indoors. On first inspection, the apartment seemed empty and still. The T.V stood in one corner, flanked by a plant and facing the couch, which seemed slightly tired but serviceable. A clock ticked softly on the wall, reading 5.52pm. The room was bathed in the light of the setting sun, which gave everything a gentle, golden glow. Mac turned and looked at the woman beside him, and pushed against her legs, trying to direct her toward the door.

"Frankie! C'moooon! You gotta go! Before..." Mac stopped and gulped as he heard steps coming from the hall, followed by a grumbling laugh.

"Well, well well! If it isn't Dorky McDork!" He laughed as Mac folded his arms against his chest. "You are soooo busted! Not only are you LATE," He pointed furiously at the clock, "But you brought back Frankie... uh... Frankie the uh... I dunno! But mom's gonna so find out!"

"Move it, dork," Frankie pushed past him and sat on one of the kitchen stools, her legs crossed and an elbow on the kitchen side. "I wanna speak to your mom about your brother," She bristled at the 15 year old in front of her. She surveyed him with an expert eye. Shabbily dressed, with greasy pockmarked skin, and teeth that looked like they hadn't been brushed for a year. He also smelt unpleasantly of Lynx, which had been sprayed a little too liberally. Typical teenage boy.

"Right. Terrence, make me a coffee. I think your mom's back in about 10 minutes, and I'm gonna need some caffeine after the day I've had. And you, Mac," Frankie turned to Mac, who wore an expression of absolute disbelief as Frankie skilfully reduced the adolescent to a gibbering wreck. "You go to your room and get yourself into bed. You've had a pretty hard-going day," She winked at him as he shuffled to his room, wearing a satisfied smile as he went.

As Mac pulled his pyjamas on, he heard the door open and his mother enter through muffled voices. He heard his brother whining and guessed he was being sent to his room. But why? A thump on his bedroom door told Mac he had kicked it as he went past, which was confirmed by a loud "TERRENCE!" from the kitchenette/lounge. Mac climbed into bed with a squeak and nestled into his covers, and strained to listen to the conversation in the next room. His heart felt like it was going to burst as he heard the two women conversing away. He half expected the conversation to turn nasty, but he heard no shouting or raised voices. He felt his body beneath his clothing, remembering something the doctor had mumbled about an enlarged spleen, and ordering blood tests. He hated shots, and his sine tingled at the thought.

The mumbling was really starting to get to him now. He wished he could hear the conversation between the two matriarchs. He sat up, and reached over to the cabinet beside him. Picking up a glass left from a glass of water he had last night, he brought it up to the wall and placed his ear against it.

What he heard next nearly drained Mac of all his blood.

"So," Karen commented behind her mug of coffee as she sat opposite Frankie, her legs crossed in aloof professionalism. "You're saying my son has been going to Foster's for about 8 months now, every day,"

Frankie nodded, her previous confidence fading fast in front of the woman before her. She took a small sip of her coffee, which tasted bitter in her mouth.

"I see," Karen placed the cup on the table beside her and folded her arms. "And why, as the caretaker of the home, didn't you stop him, knowing it was against my wishes he still keep in contact with his imaginary friend?" Frankie was starting to shake now. Karen didn't need to shout to get her point across. Her stern look melted as she looked up at the clock, the hands reading 6.26.

"Listen, I didn't stop Mac from seeing his imaginary friend out of cruelty. He has to grow up... but that's beside the point," Frankie's ears pricked up. "At the end of the day, my son has gotten sick from somewhere... or something," Karen's eyes narrowed, and at this Frankie stood up in defence. Karen did likewise, but despite her smaller stature against the lanky redhead, the two were equals against each other, like two lionesses ready to fight over a kill.

"Listen, I don't wanna sound disrespectful to you, but how could Mac have gotten sick at Foster's?" Frankie fumed, veins nearly popping out of her neck. How dare Karen blame Foster's for this?

"Mac goes to Fosters and so happens to catch something strange?" Karen growled. "I don't know about you, but he couldn't have caught it here... whatever he has!"

"How in the world do you know? How do you know he even CAUGHT something?" Frankie gritted her teeth at this. "And if it was up to you, he wouldn't have even gone to the doctors at all! I could report you for _neglect_ for this,"

That caught Karen off-guard. She pointed furiously at the door, with a dark, low whisper of "Get out of my home,"

Frankie picked up her keys from the side, and strode past her, her chin pointed high. She strode angrily out of the front door, turned the lock and stepped out. And as she did so, Karen spoke up.

"And if you think Mac is going to Foster's again, you've got another thing coming! I'm keeping him here with me, where he's _safe_,"

Frankie looked back at the furious woman just feet from her, looked over her shoulder and spat "If you were any kind of mother you'd know where Mac was every day," And with that, Frankie slammed the door and stamped down the steps, across the courtyard, and back to the bus.

Mac watched out of the window and coughed into his hand as he watched the Foster's bus speed away and screech around the corner out of sight. How could his mom do this to him?

He wished Bloo was here.

He'd know what to do.

Mac blinked. Outside, the dark was almost set in, with just a few dregs of light pushing up over the roofs. Another five minutes and it'd be dark completely. From behind him, he heard the door click open, allowing a shard of light slant across the room. Mac turned his head as his mother paced towards him, and pulled him into her arms into a strong, wordless embrace. But Mac was numb. He didn't return the clinch and, when his mother pulled away and kissed him goodnight, he looked back out into the street. The street lamps were glowing dully against the twilight, lighting the road.

Down the street.

Up the hill.

Round the corner...

To Wilson Way.

Mac tiptoed to his closet and pulled on his red hoodie, pulling the hood up over his head. He found a pair of sneakers next to his bed and pulled them on, clumsily tying the laces in the darkness. Hauling his backpack onto his back, he placed his hand onto the doorknob and pulled it gently open, scarcely allowing himself to breath. Looking either way, he found his mother or brother were nowhere to be seen. Terrence must still be sulking in his room, and his mom must be elsewhere in the apartment. Barely allowing himself to breath, Mac tiptoed along the short hall, across the living room, and out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own anything to do with Fosters! Very sorry, guys! And thank you so much to the people who have commented/fave'd/ added me to their lists. It really means a lot!**

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><p>An almighty CRASH! Sounded from within the Victorian Mansion that stood on Wilson Way. The doors flung open and four imaginary friends, flanked by a young girl, fell unceremoniously through them in a big, multicoloured, furry heap. Amongst the fray, a small blue blob sat up in unparalleled excitement, his eyes wide and hyped up, a rainbow wig wobbling on his head. He giggled uncontrollably under his breath, looking intently at the girl, who was lifted up to the top of the pile by a friendly red hand.<p>

"What next! What's next, Goo?" Bloo squealed.

"Si! What is next senorita?" A furry bull the colour of grape smiled and looked down at the child, who was dusting herself down and grinned at her friends.

"Coco! Cocococococo co co co!" A small bird/airplane/plant popped her head out from under the pile, her palm fronds waving in glee. A red face, the origin of the helpful lift, nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, that was fun Goo! I hope that's ok!"

"Especially with..." Bloo squeaked.

"The," Eduardo leaned in closer.

"COCO!"

Goo put her hands on her hips in satisfaction, and pushed the glittery Elton John glasses further up the bridge of her nose. She loved coming to Fosters, it always ended up this way. However, when she looked up, she was shocked to see it dark, the stars twinkling through a few smattering of clouds, the last few rays of the sun peeking gently over the houses in the west. She rolled back her sleeve and gasped at the Mickey Mouse watch that adorned her wrist.

"Oh my GOSH! I'm really really really sorry guys but I have to go, mom will be going nuts waiting for me! I can't believe it's seven already, I haven't been this late for weeks and weeks!" Goo jumped down from the pile and ran back into the house, grabbed her hoodie and ran backwards out of the house, waving madly at the friends in the parlour.

"BYEEEEEE! SEE YA! AU REVIOR! AUF WEIDERSEIGN! BLLLLUUUUKKKJUI!"

"Blukjui!" A small green lizard of an imaginary friend waved her out. He smiled and looked up at a disapproving fire hydrant. "What? It's Martian for goodbye. Goo told me so,"

"Hey, uhhh, Goo?" Wilt called after her, and stopped her running off by grabbing her shoulder. "It's pretty late, you can't go home on your own," Goo pondered this.

"We'll take you back! Frankie isn't home yet with the bus... come to think of it, where is she?" Wilt looked out to the quiet street ahead, lit by the yellow of the streetlamps.

"Is so scary and dark... poor Frankie! All alone!" Eduardo shook in his boots, biting his hooves in nervous dread. His eyes darted back and forth across the porch. "Maybe... maybe a monster EAT THE BUS!"

"Co co _cocococo_," Coco "Co cococCOCOOOO!" Coco squawked, and gently cuffed him with her foot.

"Coco's right, Ed. There are no monsters out there... but we'd better get this little lady home, all the same!" Wilt grinned down at the small girl, clad terrifyingly neon in a bright orange and pink hoodie, and turned to follow her out the gates, followed closely by Coco and Eduardo.

"My home's thataway, we could go down the street but it's faster if you go across the park but then again its night-time and my mom and dad say its realllly dangerous at night I don't know why but hey what can you do adults sometimes don't make any sense at all, and another thing..." Goo chattered away, half to thin air, a quarter to herself and another quarter to the imaginaries that surrounded her. Wilt turned and looked toward the porch, where a small blue blob stood watching them. He seemed perfectly still, almost stuck in mid animation.

Intrigued, Wilt squeaked up to him. "Bloo? Uh... Bloo? Are you ok?" Wilt leaned in and bent over to face Bloo. The towering red friend couldn't understand why the usually most animated housemate was stood so perfectly still. Even his eyes refused to blink or react to light. Wilt waved a hand in front of his face and gasped in horror as the friend seemed to... fuzz... out of focus, like a broken down television set. Then, as suddenly as the episode came, Bloo blinked and crossed his blobby arms and pouted.

"You all abandoned me! You were all about to go with Goo without me!" Bloo glared at the imaginary friend, who stared at him with concern and confusion. Bloo's eyes narrowed.

"What? Got somethin' in my teeth?" The small blob put his "arms" on his "hips" defensively.

"Nothing Bloo, I'm sorry... but, are you feeling O.K?" Wilt stood up straight and scratched his head. "I'm sorry but you kinda freaked out a bit there,"

"Freaked out? What do you mean?" Bloo began to go down the steps. "All I know is one second we're all in a heap on the porch and the next thing you're all going out the gates! WELL! No-one has a night out without BLOOREGARD Q. KAZOO!" Bloo whooped as he raced down the path to meet his friends. Wilt scratched his head as Bloo began to rant on about the horrors of being ditched. It must have been his eyes. Yeah, his eyes.

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><p>Mac wheezed as he wobbled unsteadily on his feet. The world swam around him unkindly; the buildings washed up and down like a ball on the surf, making him feel sick as he watched them bob violently. He felt out for some support and found solace in holding onto a streetlamp, the cold steel refreshingly cool against his fingers, which were slippery with sweat. He felt another wave of nausea hit his forehead and he heaved, holding desperately onto the pole as he vomited the last remaining dregs of his dinner. Wiping his brow as he finished, Mac looked up at the dark sky above him. Where was he? Why was he even here? What time is it?<p>

What time... is... it?

Mac staggered back from the cool touch of the streetlamp and wobbled onto his feet. He was hit by another wave of emotion- pure unadulterated terror. Mac wanted to scream and cry, but he felt too weak and petrified to even squeak. He meandered backwards until he felt a jolt in his back; he had hit a large dumpster, and the wheels creaked as they felt his weight.

Where am I? Mac whispered. Where is Bloo?

I want Bloo.

I want...

No-one noticed the small figure in the alleyway by the dumpsters hit the deck with all his bodily force, his head hitting the floor with an audible _crack._


	5. Chapter 5

**I do not own any characters or have anything to do with Foster's home for imaginary friends. If I did, well... *evil laugh***

**Enjoy this next chapter! As always, reviews are very encouraged and critique is always welcome (because how else do you grow?) Thanks for all the reviews so far!**

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><p>A soft autumn wind blew through the streets, rustling the leaves from the branches of the trees decorating Faust Avenue. Five figures plodded down it, each appreciating the night air separately. Goo skipped ahead occasionally, her boundless energy flying out her mouth in a string of nearly intelligible sentences, her eyes bright and smiling. Wilt squeaked alongside her, his strides long enough to keep up with the impish little girl as she danced around his legs. Coco stepped a little while behind them, occasionally stopping to peck at a falling leaf as it fluttered down. Even Eduardo was enjoying the peaceful night air... as long as he stayed close to the others. He flagged a little behind, occasionally looking over his shoulder, half checking for potential strangers and half reminding himself he was safe. Bloo however, shuffled behind Eduardo, his eyes gazing up at the clear sky above him. Something was bugging him, but for the life of him he could not explain it. Just a feeling, like one would feel if they had left the iron on or left a light on in the bathroom before leaving for a fortnight's holiday.<p>

"I'm sorry, but isn't tonight just gorgeous!" Wilt lamented, his working eye gazing up at the stars that twinkled gently over the town.

"Cocooo..." Coco agreed, snapping at a leaf that quivered from her beak.

"Is very nice, but a just a little scary," Eduardo stopped in his tracks and watched Bloo overtake him. "Senor Bloo? You think is nice night, no?"

Bloo looked up at him and shrugged. "Eh. I've seen better,"

"Where have you seen nicer nights then Bloo? Because I don't think you could get nicer nights like this, oh no no no, because not even in Wisconsin do you get nice nights like this and they have realllly nice nights in Wisconsin, and they have real nice cheese there too, did I ever tell you about the cheese out there?" Goo rambled on as she walked along on her heels, skipping sometimes to get her balance.

"On Final Daydream 5," Bloo shrugged. That feeling just wouldn't go away! He felt fine up at the home but since they had been walking he had felt strange the whole time. Like a bizarre weight was holding him down.

"Final Daydream 5? I'm sorry Bloo, but that's computer graphics, THIS is the real deal," Wilt smiled as he felt another early autumn breeze blow gently past him. The tall red friend looked behind him, and noticed that their large purple companion was a little way behind. He had stopped completely and was staring down an alleyway intently. He was bent over with his paw outstretched, and making kissing noises.

"Uh... Ed?" Wilt blinked at their friend's strange behaviour. "I'm sorry, but what are you doing?"

"Calling this kitty! He so cute and fluffy," Ed smiled back at his companions. He turned back to face the alley. "Here, little Gato! I es Eduardo, I would very much like to meet you,"

"Coco... co cocococo..." Coco padded back toward Eduardo, and started to pull on his coat. "Coco co co co,"

"Yeah, I gotta get home Eduardo. I mean what do you think this is, make friends with a cat day or get Goo home day? Because when I checked we were taking me home, we've only got another block to go, it's not far at all," Goo clopped up to him, her cowboy boots clicking as she went. "Wait... That's no kitty..."

Goo stared down where Eduardo was looking. Amongst the shadows she saw a mound of brown fluff, peeking out from beneath the bins. She stepped a little closer, barely breathing, feeling her heart thud in her chest. She pulled away the bin bag concealing most of its form with a clatter.

The scream could be heard five blocks away. Amongst the ear splitting din, Bloo raced up to the source, and saw a sight that nearly made his stop in his chest.

"Oh my GOSH! IT'S MAC! IT'S MAC! OH MY GOSH WHAT HAPPENED! MAC! SPEAK! SPEAK TO ME!" Bloo screeched, lifting the boy's bangs from his forehead. He felt something warm and sticky against his hand and lifted it to where he could see.

_Blood._

The blob seemed close to hyperventilating. Around him, chaos reigned. Wilt was calling for help, and Goo was banging on various doors, trying to get attention. Coco was laying eggs, collecting bandages and Eduardo reached out to pick Mac up. However, after his initial reaction, Bloo seemed to calm down. He didn't know what he was doing almost; it was like a forgotten instinct that seemed to take him over, putting him into a semi-trance. He swatted Eduardo's hooves away and glared at him with a look that would have made a charging rhinoceros turn tail and run back straight to his mother, and gritted his teeth at the well meaning Coco, who made the right choice to back off, where she hugged Eduardo in concern.

Bloo knelt down onto the cold concrete and put his face next to his creators. Something odd seemed to wash over him and a checklist appeared in his mind.

_Breathing?_  
><em>Check.<em>

_Heart rate?_  
><em>Slowing, but check.<em>

Still with his hand on the gash on his creator's forehead, Bloo closed his eyes and bit his lip in exertion. His ears seemed to block out all other sounds except the rhythmic sound of his creator's heartbeat, which echoed all around him. What felt like a wave of energy pulsed down his arm, and he felt himself fade slightly as he heard the throb of the boy's heartbeat speed up.

_Come on, Mac,_ Bloo whispered into the boy's ear. _C'mon, you can do it. Wake up, you gotta wake up, I'm here, don't worry, I'm here. I'm here. I'm here. I'm here..._

Bloo continued to whisper as he watched the boy's eyes flicker and open, focusing on the blob in front of him. A warm sensation washed over Mac as he watched his friend fade in and out of existence and reached out his hand, weakly grasping Bloo's other arm. For a brief moment, Mac felt completely at peace, and listened to Bloo's voice reverberate again and again in his mind.

_"I'm here. I'm here. I won't leave you. Stay with me Mac, please, you're gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine. You're gon-"_

"His eyes! They are opening!" Eduardo exclaimed, shocking the blob back to reality. The peace of Mac's steadily strengthening heartbeat had gone, and the voices faded away to nothing. Replacing them was the screech of sirens and loud commanding voices, the blue lights from an ambulance lighting the alleyway up with a harsh blue. Bloo felt himself solid again but sagged and fell to the floor, facing Mac whose eyes, whilst half lidded and glazed, seemed focused.

"You idiot, Mac," Bloo croaked. "You real idiot,"

"Idiot yourself," Mac smiled at his friend as paramedics rushed to the two of them, and started work on the pair. Feeling the hands deftly working, needles inserted into his arm and the voices chatting to them, Bloo felt himself slip into a deep, exhausted sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Wow. That was one HARD chapter. It's always the wrap up chapters that can be the hardest, I always write action much better than calmer scenes. Oh well! Enjoy! And as always, all reviews and critique very very welcome! I have to thank another fanfiction writer (I'm not too sure who they are right now) for having the idea of Imaginary friends and the bonds and energy with their creators, so props to them!**

**As always, I don't own Fosters Home for Imaginary Friends.**

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><p>Beep... beep... beep...<p>

What in the heck was that annoying beeping? Frankie... Frankie... turn that off... nnn... Eduardo, turn that beeping off... Wilt? Coco? Mac?

Beep... beep... beep...

"Ahh, I see someone's waking up," An elderly voice sounded from beside him. Bloo's eyes flickered and opened slowly, the bright light from the room stinging as the world swam into focus. He realised with a small degree of surprise that he found he was in a bed, the clean sheets so blindingly white it caused his eyes to water. At the foot of the bed was a small pine-coloured table, on which what appeared to be paperwork, charts and bizarrely, a ball of yarn the colour of coral. He followed the trail of pink yarn across to a pair of needles, working away in a corner by none other than Madam Foster herself. She smiled as he focused on her.

"Madam Foster?" Bloo croaked, shuffling his tired body up into a semi seated position. "Thirsty..." He reached over to a glass of liquid, only to have it handed to him. He gratefully gripped it and poured the lot into his mouth in one go, and held it out in front of him.

"More," He grumbled. As it was refilled, he rubbed his head with his other appendage. "Ahhh... I feel like I've been hit by a truck," He groaned, moving the arm down in front of him. As he did so, he noticed a needle had been inserted, a long IV line snaking its way up to a bag of clear liquid that stood on a chrome pole next to him. He poured the glassful into his mouth yet again, revelling in the liquid that soothed his parched mouth.

"Y'know, you could have sprung for a bit of squash in this," The blob gulped. "I HATE water on its own,"

"A 'thanks' wouldn't kill ya, Bloo," Said a voice on the opposite side of him. He turned and narrowed his eyes as the blurriness faded to reveal a shock of bright red hair, a vivid green hoodie and a pair of irked yet relieved eyes smiling at him, a jug of water in her hand.

"Frankie? What are you...? OWWWW..." Bloo groaned, once again massaging his head, gritting his teeth in pain. "Wha... what happened? Where's Mac?" Bloo snapped his head up as he realised the reasons for being in his position, and jumped up to his "feet". "OH NO! MAC! WHERE IS HE? I GOTTA GET TO HIM! HOLD ON OL' BUDDY OL' PAL! I'MMA COMING!"

"Hold on, Bloo," Frankie pushed the blob back down into the bed. "You can't go running anywhere, not in the shape you're in,"

"But Mac! Where is he?"

"Bloo, I realise you're worried about him but..."

Bloo blinked at this as though he was registering the redhead's words. "Worried about him? WORRIED ABOUT HIM? I'm more than worried about him! I'm gonna _kick his butt_ for this!"

Frankie blinked at this revelation, and watched as the blob appeared to start shaking in anger. "Excuse me?" She exclaimed.

"Kick his butt! What a dummy! Why'd he go out? What was he thinking?" Bloo growled. "UUUHHH DUUURRRR I'MMA GO OUT FOR A WALK COS I'M A BIG DUMB BUM DUMMY!" At this he pulled a grotesque face, his tongue lolling from his mouth as he flopped back into the pillows, folding his arms. "Where is the dummy butt anyway? They patch him up?"

"Uhm... Bloo... He's..." Frankie bit her lip as she remembered seeing the child earlier that day. "He's a very sick little boy, Bloo. He's... in the children's ward now, but he was in intensive care for a while last night,"

She pictured last night as she made her way home, driving past a real life drama, only to find Wilt, Eduardo, Coco and Goo pointing hysterically at the ambulance and paramedic's car as it drove past her, all talking at once. She recalled she had stayed beside the imaginary friend all night, joined the next morning by her grandmother to take over the morning shift as she left to go home to sleep. She had bumped into Karen as she walked out of the front gates; the woman was sitting so helplessly in a bench, puffing miserably on a cigarette. Seeing the woman in such a frazzled state had pulled at Frankie's heart strings, and hearing the news she had to say had shocked the caretaker to the core. It stunned her further as the woman gripped her arms, pulling at her sweater and cried deep, heart-wrenching tears into her stomach. Something about test results. Something that the doctors suspected. The words still rang in her ears... the news every parent dreads.

"Intensive care..?" Bloo whimpered, and pulled the sheets up close to his "chin". He'd heard of intensive care before, but only on T.V... It usually meant someone was going to die. Bloo felt sick at this thought, his eyes brimming with tears. Frankie sat on the bed beside him and put her hand on his back, pulling him close.

"Oh Bloo... he's out of there. We're just waiting on some test results now," Frankie pulled him closer to her body, her fingers stroking him gently.

"Test results?" Bloo mumbled, looking at her earnestly. "Those mean doctors, making him take tests when he's sick! Why I oughta..." He shook a blobby appendage in thin air, only to have Frankie's hand put it down to rest, as she fought a little smile at the thought.

"Not that kind of test, Bloo," She sighed. "I mean, blood tests, scans... poor little guy had to have a spinal tap and everything. They're just going to find out what's wrong with him and make him better. You'll see,"

Bloo blinked and held his head. This was all far too much for him to take in. Only the other day they had been playing in the yard, building on the den in the tree. And now... this was all getting too serious for him. Plus his head was throbbing so hard he thought it was going to burst. He looked over to Madam Foster, her small frame dwarfed by the hospital armchair she perched in. She looked up and smiled, reaching over to pat him on the hand.

"Oh he will dearie. He'll be fine soon," She smiled reassuringly. "Not in any small part to you, Bloo,"

"Huh?" Bloo looked at her as though she had spontaneously combusted before him.

"I mean, if you hadn't have found him last night, goodness knows what would have happened to our Mac. And I don't just mean finding him dear," She met Bloo's confused look with a stoical gaze. "I mean that little trick you did back there in the alley, what we in the business know as Imaginary Energy Transferral,"

"Otherwise known as IET," Frankie informed the perplexed friend before her. Bloo groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Listen to what we're telling you, it's important!" Madam Foster clocked the blob on his head with a knitting needle, leaving Bloo to cross his arms. "IET is very powerful stuff, Bloo. You transferred some of your life energy to Mac to keep him stable. Imaginary friends will do it instinctively if the bond between Creator and Creation is strong enough,"

"Whaaaa...?" Bloo scratched his head at this. "It explains a few things... So WHY AM I HERE?"

"The problem is it's a one way system, Bloo... once you've transferred your energy, you won't get it back. Not even Mac can give it back to you. Imaginary friends who give their energy like that... if they give too much away, they just stop,"

"You mean stop giving it?" Bloo questioned. Frankie shook her head.

"Grandma means... you die. You stop existing. That's why you feel so bad now. You almost gave away all your energy to Mac. You nearly died to save him, Bloo,"

"D- d- d... I nearly died?" Bloo squeaked. "DIED? I can't die! I can't EVER die! I'm allergic to death!"

Bloo fell back onto his pillows and grasped at the sheets, pulling them high over his head, giving him a strange ghost-like appearance. "How apt," Frankie groaned, pulling at the sheet that covered his face. Suddenly, a thought struck her.

"Did you wanna see Mac?" She smiled gently as the Imaginary friend gave a small, silent, childish nod. Scooping him up in her arms like a baby, she grasped the IV pole in her hand, rolling it behind her as she cradled him.

"I'll see you in a bit grandma," Frankie looked over her shoulder as they began to walk away. The old girl waved cheerfully behind them, and continued with her knitting, cursing occasionally as she dropped a few stitches. "And don't swear too loudly! Some of the imaginary friends in here are babies, y'know!"

"Don't you worry about DAGNABBIT! Me, sweety," Madam Foster trilled as the two pushed through the ward doors. "I'll be right here when you get back,"

* * *

><p>Bloo had never felt so confused. What in the world was happening to him? As they travelled from the Imaginary section of the hospital through the corridors, Bloo couldn't help but notice the people around him. Some were in gowns, some in uniforms. He watched as porters wheeled patients from ward to ward, and the various doctors bustling past them, busy on their day-to-day rounds. He watched the signs as they passed beneath them, asking Frankie what they mean. They made a small game of it to pass the time.<p>

"What's cardiac mean?"

"For switching hearts around," Frankie grinned. "Like Frankenstein,"

"Cooooool..." Bloo gawped. "I want a Frankenstein heart. Hey, what does G.U.M clinic mean?"

"OOOH HEY LOOK AT THAT WE'RE HERE!" She grinned a little too widely as she pushed the double doors open with a bit of a crash, causing a toddler at the end of the ward to scream in surprise.

"SHHHHHH!" Bloo glowered. "Dontcha know this is a hospital?" the blob yelled, causing a nurse to step in front of them, her arms crossed in aggravation. Her hair, curly to the point of full on frizz, was pulled back tightly into a bun, matching her lips that were pulled in so tightly they reminded Bloo of a cat's bottom.

"Can I help you, miss?" The senior nurse growled, narrowing her eyes at the blob in the caretaker's arms. Before Bloo could ping back an assertion, Frankie clapped a hand over his mouth, causing him to flail his blobby arms around in protest, the IV line he was attached to swinging wildly. She grinned at the nurse apologetically, who seemed unaffected.

"We're here to see Mac Pava... we're friends of the family," Frankie coughed into her hand as the nurse grumbled "This way please,"

As the pair followed the nurse up the ward, Frankie blinked at the children in the beds, some playing on the floor, some laughing with various imaginary friends, some dozing gently, their chests rising and falling in slumber. It caused a small lump of bile to rise in her throat at the sight of it.

"Here he is," The senior nurse motioned toward a bed where a small figure was sat up in it, his face bandaged, his cheeks a little pale but all in all, he seemed quite bright. In fact, he was _smiling_.

"Hey Bloo!" Mac grinned as his friend was lowered onto the bed next to him. "Nice accessory," Mac pointed at the line coming out of his friend's arm. "Matches mine!" He grinned and lifted his arm to show the blob a line that emerged from his hand.

"Sweet... it looks so gross," Bloo inspected it, scrutinising it with deep interest. "That nurse there, SHEESH, what a battleaxe," He hissed, motioning toward the worker, who was now bent over a young girl with a tye-dye bandanna on her head.

"Oh, that's Nurse Garner. You get used to her," Mac grinned brightly. However, his beam was soon wiped off his face as Bloo stared at him intently. "So... do the doctors know what wrong with you yet?" He nonchalantly stated, yet his eyes never left his creator's.

The boy fiddled fixedly with his gown and averted his gaze, his cheeks flushing furiously.

"So they DO know, then," Bloo leaned in closer. "Tell me, what is it?"

"Th-th-they don't... not yet. I saw them talking to mom but I have no idea what they said... all I know is they took my blood and they did this weird test on me this morning," Mac put two fingers up in front of him, at a distance of about five inches. "I swear, the needle was THAT long,"

"NO!" Bloo gasped, horrified.

"Yeah... it really hurt too," Mac groaned. "They laid me on my side and put it in the bottom of my back. The doctor says I can't move much for a while and I might get a headache, but to be honest, I got one anyway,"

"Woooaaaah... You've gotta be the bravest kid I know," Bloo's eyes grew wide. "Not to mention the dumbest,"

"Says you," Mac smiled, and pulled his creation close. "Thanks, Bloo,"

"Hey hey hey, enough of the sappy stuff already!" Bloo laughed. "You big dummy-butt!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Ahh, seventh chapter mark 2. I do apologise for the odd spelling (I'm british so the way things are spelt kind of change. But I've switched it to the american spelling to save mix-ups) and the oh so SUBTLE mistake of getting the nature of the illness wrong! Bone? What was I thinking? Please forgive me**, **I had come home from a 12 hour shift yesterday, so was pretty tired. SO! Heres the new, ACCURATE chapter! Thanks for the point out, South Park's only PKMN master! That saved me an awful lot of embrarrasment!**

** You know the drill by now! I don't own anything, blah blah blah...**

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><p>Time flew by, as it always does. Before Foster's knew it, September had given way to early October. A cold snap had settled in, setting a thin layer of frost on everything in sight, giving the home a delicate, fragile, cake decorated look. The friends had begun to talk about the upcoming Halloween holidays, and the spiced smell of pumpkin and apple crumbles floated throughout the corridors. Autumn had indeed set in.<p>

"FRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANKIE!" The floor shook with the long bleat of a certain azure blob, who plodded the halls, paddleball dragging pathetically behind him. Bloo had recovered quickly despite his brush with death, and his boundless energy had all but returned to its full capacity. In fact, Frankie could swear he had become even more mischievous and was sometimes just plain naughty overnight. Some might say he was making up for lost time, others said it was because he realised that he wasn't indestructible and wanted to fit in as much as he could during his lifespan from now on. Whatever it was, standing in corners and confining him to his bedroom without supper just invited more trouble, so the latest plan had been put into action. Frankie had taken to simply ignoring him.

This only partially worked as even though the pranks had trickled away (The day of the Great Shaving Foam Snowstorm notwithstanding) Bloo had resorted to whinging and whining incessantly for attention. The only time he would quieten down and shut up was when he would wait patiently by the front door for the arrival of his creator, who had begun to arrive at around 3.30 these days. And that wasn't the only change that was happening.

Mac's _mother_ had taken to driving Mac to the home after school. Not only that, but she would actually come in, acknowledge the cobalt figment with a warm hello, and bury herself in the kitchen with Frankie, where they would talk and drink coffee. TOGETHER.

This confused the child and his friend to no end, and whenever they poked their noses in they would be quickly removed from the area, encouraged to take their places in front of the T.V until they saw Karen clop back to her car in her heels and drive off. Mac informed the blob with a degree of puzzlement that his mother had started taking some time off between shifts, purely to spend time with him.

This was just odd, in so many ways.

And that wasn't the only change. The biggest change was in Mac himself. It seemed that since he had emerged from hospital, worse for wear and still pretty bruised but still wearing that optimistic smile, his energy had dwindled to nothing, like sand through an hourglass. With Mac's increasingly late visits, they now revolved around fairly quiet games, TV, or reading comics. Bloo was at first quite put out, who would try to get his creator to involve himself in more energetic activities (Apparently, according to The Bunny and Frankie, a re-enactment of Quidditch was NOT the ideal activity for an eight year old fresh out of hospital) but started to enjoy these more subdued activities. Late afternoons with the late nights drawing in would be spent under the blanket in Bloo's bed with a torch between them. Here they would read scary stories together, pull faces or play the dreaded game of truth or dare. This was even more fun with a certain pigtailed girl, who had also taken to visiting the pair more often.

Goo had become even more of a prominent figure in Mac's life these days. The excitable girl had taken to visiting her friend with more gusto than ever before, bringing with her the treasures she had acquired throughout the day. Even though they attended the same school and was but a year above him, she would enthusiastically present to him different objects and concepts that had captured her interest that day.

One day her assorted treasures consisted of: A funny drawing she had doodled on the back of her science exercise book, a demented pinecone, and strangely enough, one of her baby photographs, crumpled and creased at the edges from being in her pocket.

"See, I was in hospital once JUST LIKE YOU WAS! Well, I wasn't eight I was just born, look how teeny teensy tiny I was, I was real small and mom says that I'm her miracle because I was born real early and I thought you might like it because you might feel a bit lonely so I wanted you to know you're not the only one to go into hospital! And lookit this pinecone, it's so funky and twisted..." Goo jabbered on and on as usual, as Mac concentrated on the photograph before him. The image was scary, frightening even, the tubes, the incubator... but looking as his now more-than-healthy friend, he smiled. Suddenly the world seemed a bit brighter, a bit fuller of hope.

Because the truth was, had it not been for Foster's support, he would have been a lot more terrified than he was now. If I could follow Goo's example, Mac pondered, Maybe... but his thoughts were interrupted by a soft wet touch that fluttered against his cheek. Blushing furiously, Mac craned his neck to see the young girl beside him hugging her legs and grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey, I had to distract you somehow!" Goo grinned. "To stop you worrying again! Because you really worry waaaay too much these days, actually scratch that, you always worry too much. Anyways, you keep thinking like that again and I might just have to kiss you on the lips!"

Mac secretly hoped to carry on worrying.

* * *

><p>"You're joking..."<p>

"I assure you, Ms. Pava, I am extremely sorry to say this... I really am. But I have to say it. Your son has-"

"Leukemia," The woman said quietly. The doctor's surgery seemed to close in around her, the GP before her holding papers with her son's name and that filthy word on the same sheet. She didn't believe it. She would not NOT believe it. She shan't believe it.

But believe it she did.

She had been told and warned of the possibility when the doctors had told her of the reasons why they had taken the tests they had. Her mind flashed back to the Lumbar Puncture procedure a fortnight ago. To when her child had snuck out of the apartment right under her nose to see his friend.

She wondered for a few seconds why she had been so lax, even encouraging, to Mac going to Fosters. She had guessed, even though most were imaginary, that having friends around him would be the key to his recovery. And her surprising friendship with the caretaker of the home, who had told her all about everything she had done for Mac. Of how loyal the eight year old had been to his best friend all this time, showing maturity and strength from such tender age. Of Bloo's sacrifice to her son when he was in that alleyway.

For that, she owed the blob her son's life.

Karen gulped back a tear and forced out her more professional side. Looking the doctor square in the eyes, she crossed her arms and frowned at him.

"How am I supposed to tell him, Doctor?" She sighed. "He's eight years old. Oh god... he's eight..." Karen's professional demeanour slid like a face of makeup in the rain, and she fought back a fresh river of tears that threatened to burst its banks.

"Well, he has to know, Ms. Pava... chemotherapy will begin on Monday, after the weekend. If you like, I can break the news to him myself," The good doctor leant forward in concern. However, the woman before him stood high and, lugging the handbag onto her shoulder, she distractedly looked out to where her car was parked, it's red paintwork shining dully in the fall afternoon sun.

"No... I'll tell him myself. He's in a good place right now, he's with his friends. I'll tell him tonight when he's brought home by a friend I have there, that way I can figure out what to say to him. Somehow..." At this, Karen turned to leave.

"Good luck, Ms. Pava. I'll be keeping a good eye on your son," He called after her as she clopped down the hallway.

"Thank you for everything, doctor," Karen's voice shook as she fought the horrific urge to cry bitterly, openly displaying her grief and anguish to the heavens right there and then in the surgery waiting room. However she kept her composure and stalked out to her car, a small Ford Fiesta. Opening the car door with a 'click', she fell in with all the force of a fainting camel, and wept into her steering wheel.

She thought of her sons, of which both she had not spent enough time with.

Or energy.

Both had gone behind her back in some way, and found acceptance with their own groups of friends. Terrence, the little so and so, had found acceptance with a group of typical teenage boys, skipping school and showing interest in the girls in his class. Growing up, albeit rather awkwardly. The one she had expected to do exceptionally however had discovered his own acceptance and pseudo-family, right beneath her nose.

Gripping the steering wheel and blinking back her tears, she pulled away and made her way home, the same words swimming in her head over and over in her head. This was one thing she wouldn't let her boy down over.

And she was damned if she'd let a little blood-cancer get in her way.


	8. Chapter 8

**Phew! I am so sorry for the gap in writing guys, I've been so busy recently. Working on the ol' art portfolio and enrolling into college took precedence over the fanfiction I'm afraid guys, but I return! Ready and willing to write another chapter! Oh, and I decided I could really do with a Beta, someone to give me opinions, point things out and spell-check before I post chapters. I'm happy to be a beta in return! **

**Anyways, welcome to another exciting instalment! I don't own anything, blah blah.**

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><p>Mac whimpered as he looked tiredly up at the ceiling. His heart beat furiously in his chest, his hands pulling the blankets high up to his chin. A shaft of moonlight eked its way in through a crack in the curtain, slicing through the darkness and stretched across his bed. He blinked, his tired eyes aching, yet they refused to shut.<p>

It can't be true.

He gulped and turned over, the clock on the sideboard blinking "12.25" in florescent red. Half past midnight. He groaned into his pillow and flipped it over, fluffed it, and fell into it with a _floof. _Again, it didn't help. He lifted his little legs with a grunt and kicked the blankets from his body, where they landed in a crumpled heap on the floor.

It just doesn't make sense! Me! Why me? Mac groaned as he coughed into his hands, and rolled onto his side into a foetal position, his hands held tight on his head. "What am I going to tell all the guys at Fosters?" He whispered as he pulled the pillow down next to him, his legs wrapping around the cushion in a desperate search for comfort.

As far as Mac was concerned, just six hours ago he was just a normal kid. Sure, he hadn't been very well recently... sometimes he felt faint and sick, other times he would get confused over really dumb things, and this cough... but not this! He'd heard horror stories... and... and... Mac brought his hands up to his hair, the thick chestnut locks filtering through his fingers.

Then his mom just _had_ to ruin it. She'd made him a mug of cocoa as soon as he'd come in through the door that evening, and pulled him in onto her lap, her arms enveloping her son in a long overdue embrace. They had sat like that for about quarter of an hour, Mac stiff as a board the whole time due to the conflicting emotions of confusion, gratitude and just plain freaked out by the experience. Then she told him.

Mac frowned, sat up and jumped down to the floor, and plodded to the window, his chin resting gently on his arms as he looked out over the streets. The houses were stark and bathed in the glow of the yellow streetlamps which lined the road. The sky seemed to stretch endlessly above him, the mottled clouds above him grey and moody with moonlight. Mac sighed deeply into his fingers, but his thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of his bedroom door creaking open. Mac started and span around, gulping when he saw a pimply youth poke his head into the bedroom. The stench of alcohol followed the teenager like a cloud as he staggered on his feet.

"Go _away, _Terrence," Mac groaned as he watched his sibling reach out to hold onto something stable, his legs swaying like twin saplings in a storm. "Go back to your own room; you've done this at the worst possible time!"

"Mac... uh... hey bro... hehe..." Terrence meandered over to the eight year old and placed a hand on his head, pulling the child close to his face. Mac cringed and tried to push away, but even whilst intoxicated Mac was no match for the sixteen year old. "Hey, bro... I just gotta tell ya somethin'..."

"Terrence... c'mon... I'll tell mom!"

"Hey hey... I don't wanna hurt ya... just was a CA-razy night with the guys," Terrence chuckled under his breath, his grip ever strong. "I loooooove Fridays! Anyway... I just wanted to say that I heard what mom was saying before I went out,"

At this, Mac's heart seemed to stop. His throat ran dry as his eyes widened. "Y-y-you did?" Mac gulped. The grip on his head loosed and Mac felt two hands rest on his shoulders, but whether it was to emphasize his point or to hold him up, it was anyone's guess.

"Yeah... I just want-want- *hic* wanted to say that... urrr..."

"What?"

"That when you turn old enough, I wanna be the one to... to give you your first _drink," _Terrence smiled widely at this point he was making. Mac blinked in surprise. Did his brother just say what he thought he did?

"Uhm... but Terrence..."

"Don't you 'but' me! You're gonna be f- fine, and you're gonna let me buy you a beer when you turn old enough! Understood?"

Mac nodded dumbly. He contemplated informing his less-than-intelligent brother that sixteen was in fact five years below the legal age, but he didn't want to ruin the moment. This was as emotional as Terrence got these days, and in terms of emotion, Mac might as well have watched a slushy movie whilst acting out the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet, while singing "Love is a many splendored thing". As the teenager stood to his full height and lurched from the room (humming a grungy tune under his breath as he went), Mac brushed himself down.

Man, what a weird day. All this emotion was starting to make Mac feel incredibly sick. Or was that his supper?

* * *

><p>"HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII BLOO!" Goo giggled as she skipped down Foster's path, her long rainbow-clad arms swinging side to side as she practically bounced towards the blob, who was sitting on the step with his arms crossed in a stroppy manner, a red scarf tied sloppily around his "neck". The girl halted just before him and rocked backwards and forwards on her boots, her gloved hands held behind her back, smiling down at the sulking splodge of a friend.<p>

"Hey Bloo, why you outside? Cos it's really really cold, you know it's the middle of October now dontcha? I mean it's not that cold yet I guess but it's still pretty cold, at least you have a scarf because I got a scarf too, and mittens and a hat! Hey, do you like my hoodie? It's all rainbow and warm and woolly, my grandma knitted it and I HELPED! ANYWAY Why are you out here in the first place Bloo?" Goo smiled down at Bloo, who looked grouchily up to her face.

"BECAUSE! You know it's getting close to Halloween; Frankie always starts making pumpkin slices and apple and cinnamon cupcakes this time of year. Well she apparently doesn't appreciate me helping her with the mixture," Bloo shook his head at this as though it were the greatest atrocity on the face of the earth. "I mean honestly! A guy tries to help and this is where it gets you. Out in the cold! What a place,"

At this, Frankie's head peeped out from the door, a hand on her hip and a pair of very irked eyes. In her hair were splodges of a strange green, lumpy mixture, which smiled down to her top and legs. "Bloo, you tried to put MUSHY PEAS in the cake batter! And when I tried to stop you, you threw the mix at me!"

"I was just trying to help!" Bloo whined in defence. "You surprised me!"

"Bloo, you ruined enough batter to make sixty apple turnovers! Now I have to make it all again! And it's for Adopt-a-Thought Saturday; the new adopters will be here in an hour! What on earth possessed you to think that mushy peas would be good in apple turnovers?" Frankie wiped some of the green mess from her head with a groan.

"Cos! I thought they were boring! They needed a little jazzing up, a little... je ne sais quoi!" Bloo looked up at her with all the sincerity of a saint. "It's _gourmet,"_

Frankie groaned and facepalmed, full Picard style. Sometimes she just felt like hitting her head against a brick wall, dealing with a friend like Bloo, no matter how much she had grown attached to him. Now she would have to shower and get dressed, she was behind already as it was. Looking up, she saw Goo, her smiling face now frowning as she looked down at the watch on her wrist.

"Hey Goo! What's the problem?" Frankie enquired, leaning against the door.

"It's 12 o clock! Where's Mac? Cos I haven't seen him today, oh no no, usually I see him or I see his mom's car but I haven't seen him alllll morning, not at all, nuh uh. I mean, usually he's here at 10.00, but I don't see him anywhere!" Goo pondered this. Bloo bit his lip and growled.

"Don't you think I've already noticed this? He's late and Herriman will get me adopted for sure if he's much longer, I just know it!" Bloo whimpered, looking left and right for potential adopters.

"Hey, relax guys," Frankie grinned at the worried pair. "He's not been very well, maybe he's just... y'know, relaxing at home? I'm sure he'll be here soon," Frankie smiled at the pair who looked rather dejected. "Hey, why don't you guys go and see him? I'm sure he'd really appreciate the visit!"

"But I want apple tuuuuuuuurnoveeeeeeeeeeers..." The little blue blob whinged up at the caretaker, who looked down at him in exasperation. But before he had the chance to complain some more, Bloo felt a tugging and found himself being dragged by a blobby arm down the path to the street by what seemed to be a living, breathing, incessantly chattering rainbow.

"I guess you could... save me some?"

* * *

><p>"HEY! Dork! Uh... I mean... MAC! Your friends are here!" Terrence called, holding his sore head in one hand and the door handle in the other. The two figures in the doorway smiled into the apartment, the little girl grinning widely as she looked at Terrence with an intense curiosity. Bloo however frowned at the teenager with suspicious eyes, a frown etched in his face. Terrence returned the look of hostility, and crossed his arms.<p>

"He's in his room, dweebs," He thumbed in the general direction, and watched as the two figures scuttled to the room, with Bloo pointing to his eyes, and back at Terrence. In other circumstances he would go blabbing off to his mother and threatening the eight year old, but right now, he had other things to think about.

Like having an ibuprofen and collapsing back into bed.

* * *

><p>...<p>

"Hey, I think he's still asleep,"

"What gave that away, genius? He snores louder than my dad! And that's real loud, it's like and ..."

"I know, and he has the gall to complain at me? He should hear himself!"

"Hey wait... he's waking up!"

Mac's awakening image was two smiling faces grinning down at him, which unsurprisingly terrified the living daylights out of the previously sleeping eight year old. In fact, he let his feelings known by letting out a large, surprised yelp, and shooting his head up with such a ferocity that he knocked into the other two's heads with a loud unabashed CRACK. All three fell back down, all groaning and holding their foreheads.

"GEEZE! Whatcha do that for, Mac?" Goo complained, rubbing at the round red bump that was starting to form. "We only came to see how you were and we were being real quiet, unlike _you_!"

"Well I'm sorry guys but I'm not used to having people watching me sleep!" Mac growled, rubbing his head. "I'm surprised I haven't got brain damage, the amount of head injuries I've had in the last month!" Mac pulled his hand away and smiled at his friends.

"Room for two more?" Bloo grinned as he clambered up, settling himself on the mattress in front of his creator. Goo followed suit, sitting Indian-style at the foot of the bed, playing with a plait between two fingers. Mac couldn't help but smile at the pair, who sat grinning so goofily at him. He immediately forgot about the fact he was still in his pyjamas, and had the complexion of a ghost. He even forgot about... that. Today, he's a normal kid.

Like playing video games and eating cereal whilst watching cartoons. Truth or dare (Bloo insisted on being dared to streak... which made absolutely no difference) and playing dress up (Bloo somehow suited his mother's silken nightdress). Mac thought he would burst into laughter, and as the day wore on into the night, the three collapsed into an exhausted, giggling heap.

"Hehehe... can you believe I STREAKED?"

"Haha! You never... HAHA! Wear clothes Bloo!"

"Or- or- or how did I look in those photographs? I was all like BLEAUGH! And you were like BLOOGH and Mac was like AAAAAAARGKPTH!"

The three giggled together, snorting and ignoring the harsh coughing that occasionally escaped Mac's lips. This was what he needed. A day granted, where he was reminded that he was still a child and he had friends, his very best ones still with him, laughing along with him as always. Pondering about this, Mac began to stop giggling, instead content to lie amongst the pile, looking up with a little smile snaking across his cheeks.

"Hey, Mac, I... EEP! GOTTA GO!" Bloo squeaked, making his way to the door, chanting the phrase "Gotta go, too much laughing, gotta go, too much laughing!" as he went. Goo of course found this hilarious, and guffawed after him as the little blob sped to the bathroom as fast as he could. The pair were left alone, and sat up, still winding down from the giggles. Mac looked up at the girl beside him, who was hugging her legs close to her chest in glee.

"Hey uh... Goo... can you keep a secret?" Mac looked shyly at his friend. At this Goo leant in, crossed her heart with one finger and zipped an imaginary line across her lips.

"Uh... ok. Anyway, I need you to keep this from Bloo... I don't want him to know yet," Mac bit his lip and looked to the door, making sure he saw no blobs hovering outside his room. "Uh... mom went to the doctors for my test results... and uh..."

"He said you have the plague! I knew it!"

"NO! He said..."

"You're gonna perform mitosis!"

"No Goo, I've go-"

"No no! You've got-"

"LEUKEMIA! I HAVE CANCER AND I START CHEMO ON MONDAY!" Mac grabbed Goo's arms desperately, tears rolling unchecked down his cheeks. "I AM PROBABLY GONNA DIE AND BLOO CAN'T EVER KNO-... oh... my... gosh..." Mac gulped, releasing his grip on the girls arms in a slow, horrified manner, as though being caught stealing a cookie from the Queen's royal Cookie Jar.

"What was that?" The blob breathed heavily. "Die? Oh come on... Don't be... What?" At this, he gulped, looked at the two children before him, the tear-stained face of his creator, and the blob did the only thing he knew in times like this.

Bloo ran.


End file.
